1.

The roar of the crowd was just starting to simmer, but the excitement seemed to grow reciprocally. Bobby sat nervously on the bench, only slightly aware of the congratulatory play of the game pats and high fives he was receiving from numerous team members. Instead he tuned in to the growing sensation that engulfed the stadium like a heavy San Francisco fog on a winter’s morning. The sensation that something big was going to happen.

            He sat quietly, watching Dave Elskin take his practice kicks into the net on the sideline, trying to avoid the gnawing feeling that seventy thousand fans were staring down at him trying to pick his mind of the answer. What’s going to happen, Bobby? It’s more than just a game isn’t it? It’s something extraordinary, but what? ’Fess up, we know you know.

            It was exactly as Velcro and Gina had said it would be. Exactly how they planned it, but more importantly exactly as he had dreamed it would be, right down to the second. Thirty-five seconds left in regulation and it was tied. The Bears were driving downfield for an apparent winning touchdown. Bobby forced the sack-fumble and ran the ball all the way back the twelve yard line with less than two seconds left. Just enough time for Dave to come out for the sure chipper to win the game. But. No! It’s blocked, picked up, and run back for a Chargers TD. It’s what Royer called the old They’re going to win/no, we’re going to win/oh no, they won! bait-and-switch routine, guaranteed to grab the attention needed to bring everyone to awareness.

            Royer's voice boomed loudly inside Bobby’s head, almost as clearly as when he sat on his father’s porch two and a half weeks ago, listening to Gina and Royer explain the plan of attack.

            “You see, we have to grab their attention and make them stop to think, Hey, this seems uncannily familiar. Let them stew it over for a few minutes, contemplating where, when, and how they have experienced it before, and then BOOM! We give them undeniable proof that something special is happening that should put them all in the right frame of mind to make the skip.”

            Although Bobby never doubted the integrity of the plan, it wasn’t until this very moment that he fully comprehended how such a complex concept could fall together so simply. He had voiced the standard concerns regarding how it didn’t seem possible to make everybody dream the same dream and then turn that dream into reality. And was truly amazed that he had the dream they had discussed a few nights later, when they had said it would occur. But still in the back of his head, it seemed almost feasible that he had subconsciously dreamed it because he was expecting to. And even though he was amazed that reality was turning into the exact replication of the dream, right down to the second, he had, up to just a minute ago, written the whole thing off to the same self-inflicted prophecy phenomenon.

            Maybe I was able to sack the quarterback, create the fumble, and run it back to the twelve yard line, where I subconsciously let myself get tackled because that is where I was supposed end up.

            It wasn’t until just now that he fully understood. Understood, that this much bigger than him or Royer or Gina. This whole thing was of cosmic proportions and that everybody was truly involved. The feeling he was experiencing was evidence that everybody did have the dream and that they were tuning in, trying to sort out what was happening. That the dream was going to, without a doubt, end just as planned. This freaked him more than anything else, because this simple fact, meant that everything else Royer and Gina had told him was also true. Most importantly, it meant that his friendly patronizing “I’ll help you out however I can” now had some kind of eternally binding obligation, for him to actually participate in the master scheme.

His stomach muscles tightened like an over-torqued screw as he watched Dave run out onto the field to set up for the game winner. He just sat there watching the details of the entire play in his mind as a super slow-mo prequel to the actual event. Although his part was done, he wanted to make sure he didn’t skip a beat and miss out on the journey of his life. According to Royer, he only needed to tune in to the crowd, feel the energy, and let nature do the rest. Again, it seemed too simple to be true, but everything else Royer had said seemed to be right, so he didn’t doubt him on this fact.

            As Bobby surveyed Dave taking his position, he noticed that everything that was happening to him in real life was starting to look more and more like the dream. Not just in terms of storyline, but more so in total look and feel. It felt like a dream—almost surreal. He projected that this was in fact a symptom of what Royer had deemed mass déjà vu. Or déjà vu on steroids. Just like the standard side effects of déjà vu, he felt out of sync with reality. Only this time he seemed more tuned in than tuned out. It was almost like the reality he knew—the sights, sounds, and feelings—were just a masquerade for the real world. That he had in fact been walking through life wearing rose-colored glasses, and they were just taken off, revealing a whole new world. The lights shining on the field seemed brighter; the grass was ten to twenty times greener, more vibrant; the crowd was not only louder, but he could actually go in and pick up separate conversations, wherever he focused his attention. It wasn’t just one big muted blur of noise anymore, but thousands of conversations and cheering interwoven into a boisterous uproar that could be broken down to each individual syllable. There was even something more than the physical senses that seemed to be swimming with newfound abilities. There was a total new awareness and understanding of nonphysical emotions and feelings that now seemed to be controlling the moment. For the first time he could sense what people were thinking and feeling, as if they were being announced one by one. Bobby chuckled at the thought, imagining each feeling, idea, and premonition that was being pipelined straight from the crowds to his head as though they were being announced through the state-of-the-art sound system in the stadium:

            Johnny in seat 17, row V, section 21, fears something bad is going to happen.

            Melissa James in the upper deck behind the goalposts wishes her husband Curtis had been able to come.

            Stu Jackson up in the press box rubs his eyes, fearing the drink he had at the pregame party is going to his head and that he will start slurring his words when they cut back from commercial.

            But through all the voices and thoughts running through his head, a familiar one stood out loud and clear: That’s it, Bobby, stay connected. You will be the focal point for everyone who wants to make the jump.

             Bobby turned back toward the special box seats behind the bench and smiled at Royer, who nodded once, and then disappeared. Not into the crowd, not a now-you-see-him, now-you-don’t magic trick. He just slowly faded away, smiling as he did.

            Bobby stared at the empty seat for a quick moment and then looked up at the sky.

            It’s time, he thought as he watched the stars meld together.

2.

An orange glow penetrated Royer’s tightly shut eyes, as the warm sun burned robustly on his face. He hadn’t felt this relaxed and at ease with himself since he was just a kid, kicking back under the big old oak tree counting baseball cards, or fishing with little Jimmy Reilly down by Larson’s pond. Yeah, summer life was good when he was eight. Didn’t have to worry about school, or his mother coping with his father’s death, or even his own feelings about his dad dying. There were no financial woes, or at least none that he knew about, and career stress—hell, Royer wouldn’t even have to start looking for job for another twelve years or so.

            Royer wondered if life would have been different if he had followed his father’s advice. If he’d just sat back to smell the roses, and hadn’t gotten caught up in life’s façade of unnecessary distractions. But how do you do that if your main distraction is not about personal conflicts, problems at work, or anything superficial, but is itself about the meaning of life? Ironically that’s what he had done since his awakening, not by choice but by actions. He chose the path of trying to use logic and actions to educate the masses, instead of using the power of the universe to get his point across. Tried to do it by himself, instead of tuning into the spirits, thus likewise creating his own distractions.

            “Royer,” Gina called from the distance. “Time to get moving. Your guests should be arriving at any moment.”

            “My guests?” Royer giggled. Gina made it sound like he was Mr. Rourke from that old seventies show Fantasy Island. But the similarities were amazing. He was to greet his guests, and help them create their fantasy world, all in a beautiful oasis setting.

            “OK, Tattoo, just call out when you see the plane.”

            “What?” Gina asked puzzled.

            “Nothing, just a bad reference to and old TV show you’ve probably never heard of.”

            “Oh, Fantasy Island,” Gina said. “You’re right, never seen it, but know the reference. So you think I look like that midget guy?”

            “Ha ha, no, just like my fantasy girl.”

            She came over and kissed him on the cheek. “You always come back with the best things to say to follow up your awful blunders. But speaking of Fantasy Island, I have been trying to figure out the change of scenery all day.”

            “What do you mean?” Royer asked.

            “I thought we were going to do this in the world you created the other night, when I showed the old you how to dream paint. I mean, isn’t that the world that we saw when we were here?”

            “Oh, that world,” Royer replied. “That world was designed as a teaching ground to help those souls that wanted to learn understand slowly. You know, what we were supposed to be doing for the past decade and an half instead of hiding behind books and papers and words. I was supposed to be teaching by example with nothing but you a dream and a makeshift PA system.”

            “Talk about missing signs. When was the last time anybody ever used one of those microphones? Probably around the turn of the millennium if memory serves me right.”

            “Good catch, and that was your job, to point out the sights to me and keep me on the right track.”

            “But weren’t we there in your vision quest?” she asked. “It seemed so real.”

            “We were there, and since it did not happen, it probably means three things,” Royer replied, pausing for a moment before adding, “In other words we have a classic case of bad news, good news, and thank god you did news.”

            “You lost me, but give it to me in that order.”

            “The bad news is that today is not enough. I probably get to some souls but not enough to significantly alter the shift. The good news is we get a second chance to do it all over again. And the thank god you did news is that you said something to the younger me, to make me listen to the younger you. What did you say that didn’t totally freak me into denial at that vulnerable point in my life?”

            “Well, I’m no rocket scientist, and all that quantum physics stuff confuses the hell out of me, but I figured that if I warned the young Roy about the inevitable future it would scare you silly. And that’s the last thing a girl wants to do to a guy if she wants to keep him around. So I said the best think I could think of to have you not run away from me and have you feel comfortable enough to want to spend the rest of your life with me.”

            “And what was that?” Royer asked.     

“Three simple words,” she replied. “I love you.”

            Royer sat silently for a moment, mulling over once again how such a simple statement could change not only the entire direction of one man’s life but that of an entire population. As he pondered this basic theorem of life, his connection to the universal energy grew stronger than ever, enlightening him to a new height he’d never dreamed was possible. He wondered where this stronger euphoria was coming from. He had made a habit of connecting daily for the past fifteen years, and it has never had a tenth of the power he was feeling now.

            “Wow,” Gina giggled, answering his thoughts, “this is some energy boost. If this is only a small crowd coming, I can’t wait until we do this again with the real group.”

            “That’s it!” Royer exclaimed. “This is just the beta group. Maybe I get to test my techniques on them and measure their reactions, so next time around I can avoid any mistakes.”

            “But next time around won’t be this you, it will be the new old you we met last night,” Gina countered.

            “That’s the beauty of living through an experience once,” Royer responded. “The memory gets transfixed to all the alternate yous via instinct, intuition, or déjà vu. I think the new old me will sense if he makes the same mistake twice and auto correct, or pick up my warning and guide as a stroke of inspiration.”

            “So then maybe this group isn’t a beta test group, maybe it’s backup support.”

            “How so?”

            “You tell me, you’re the expert on this stuff. How much energy can one man generate? And even with all the time in the world, will that energy be enough to reach everyone you need to reach?” she asked.

            “Not at all. It’s a chain reaction, kind of like a pyramid marketing scheme. You target a small group, and each individual in that group targets a small group, and so on and so on. All the while everyone is tuned in to the same message, feeding off the same energy, causing a large massive awareness and an eventual shift. The only problem is that we don’t have all the time in the world. That’s why I tried reaching the masses all at once. Only next time I have to do it right, no time to waste going to school and writing books.”

            “Well, silly, don’t you see?”

            “See what?” Royer asked, trying to guess where she was headed.

            “This isn’t your beta test group. It’s your disciple group.”

            “Disciple group?” Royer stammered, mulling over two tiny words that had the power to make his head explode, as if he was cold cocked with a lead pipe. He wondered if this was what the phrase getting the sense knocked into you truly meant. It was suddenly all so clear to him.

            How could I have been so arrogant, thinking I was the one and only? I’m not Atlas carrying the world on my shoulders. Christ, I’m not even Socrates or Plato, teaching the mystery of life to a group of knowledge-starved Grecians. I’m just a simple alarm clock, whose job is to yell loud enough to wake up a few people before it is too late.

            But beneath the embarrassment, shame, and overall disappointment that stemmed from his initial understanding of his role and his actual duties lay a very calm and peaceful feeling of serenity, as if someone had lifted a very large weight off his shoulders.